Mine
by petrelli heiress
Summary: Inspired by a song. Yeah. He'd betray his sense of honour, his beautiful girlfriend, even his country, just to hear Sylar say his name one more time. Peter/Sylar, Claire/Zach. Wait. Did I just give something away? Oops.


**Mine**

**Author's Note: Inspired by a song I heard playing while I was in the video store. **_**Lips of an Angel **_**by Hinder if you really must know. Hope you enjoy. Again, don't like slash, don't read. Simple. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. I know, **_**what **_**a shock.**

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"Peter?"

He clutched the phone in both shaky hands. What was he _doing_? He should not be doing this. What about Claire? He held the phone to his chest. He'd lusted after and loved his supposed niece for _years_ and when they'd discovered that they weren't related it should have been the happiest day of his life.

Except it wasn't. Because the day before, for a stupid, _stupid _bet, he'd kissed Sylar. The man he'd hated, loathed, _despised _for years. The man who'd murdered his brother. Okay, apparently he was reformed but, really, that could have been a hoax. Lull them into a sense of security and then wham! No more powers, no more life. Or something.

And yet he didn't believe that. He tried to make himself believe it but he couldn't. Instead, all day he'd walked around in a sort of happy daze. He'd walked into a door, twice. Oh, wait, make that three times, if you counted the elevator door.

Then the next day he discovered, along with Claire and the others, that Claire was not Nathan's daughter and hence not his niece. When she turned to gaze at him, smiling joyfully, he knew she felt the same about him as he had once felt about her. That jolted him out of his daze and he hit reality with a bang.

He had to forget the way the kiss made him feel. So he began dating Claire. And, at first, he was so very happy. She was as lovely as he'd always thought she was. She loved him and he, when he was able to forget for a moment the feelings that kiss had dug up, loved her in return.

But today, when Sylar had called and said his name, he couldn't forget it. He just couldn't, despite the fact that his darling, beautiful, lovely Claire was in the other room, just on the other side of the door, going about her business, little knowing what her boyfriend was doing. The way Sylar said his name...if only he would say it again, just once more...He'd betray his sense of honour, his Claire, his whole damn country just to hear Sylar say his name again.

"Peter, are you okay?" The concern in his voice struck Peter as wrong. Sylar shouldn't be _concerned _about him. He should be...he should be...

Taking a deep, if shaky, breath, he said, "I'm...I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Sylar said it so quickly, as though he'd been expecting his answer and knew it wasn't true. But then he _had_ been a sort of lie detector for awhile now. "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me what I can do." He sounded so earnest.

He held back a sob. God, what was the matter with him? He was truly pathetic. "I don't think...I..." He stopped. "Could we meet?" He slapped a hand across his mouth, horrified at the words. What was he _doing_?

"Sure..." He could tell Sylar was surprised at what he'd said. That made two of them. "When?"

"Now," made its way out of his mouth before he could stop it. He closed his eyes and winced silently at his utter stupidity.

He heard Sylar catch his breath. His heart started to beat, hard. What was he doing? What was he doing? What was he _doing_?

He heard, as though from far away, Sylar ask, "Where?" There was a slight hint of suppressed excitement in his voice. His smooth, seductive, _wonderful _voice.

"Uh..." Now this was the tricky part. Where _could _they meet? "The cafe just around the corner from your place?" What was it called? Come on, Peter, _think_. "Tegan and Sara's?"

"Okay...and Peter?" he asked, making Peter clutch at the phone again. "You'll tell me what's wrong, won't you?" His voice lowered a decibel and Peter had to steady himself against his desk.

"Sure, okay, I'll see you soon." After a moment of silence in which each waited for the other to hang up they finally put the phone down simultaneously. Peter laid his head gently in his hands and shook it. He sighed softly and stood up.

Making his way purposely to the door of his study, he exited and, on his way downstairs, ran into Claire. She smiled at him, gave him a peek on the cheek. "You're in a hurry. Where are you off to?"

He tried to smile back but, to him at least, it came off rather lopsided. He wondered if that was what Igor looked like as he caught his reflection in the mirror behind her. "Just off...you know how it is." He was deliberately vague. He'd never been very good at coming up with excuses on the spur of the moment.

"Well, you have fun," she said, giving him a soft kiss on the lips this time. "Don't work too hard." She walked off, humming to herself. She suspected nothing. He hesitated on the doorstep. He could stop this right now, go back inside, surprise his darling Claire.

He took one last look and then left.

He found Sylar sitting in the cafe, in his regular seat. It had surprised him, when he'd discovered that Sylar was a creature of habit, regular as clockwork. And yes, he realised how ironic that was. He took the seat across from him.

They sat in silence. Peter watched Sylar twiddle his thumbs. He hadn't ordered a coffee. _Somehow he must know we're not going to be here for long_, Peter thought. _Oh god, what are we doing here?_ He noticed his fingers were shaking and brought them down to his lap, out of sight.

"Peter..." Sylar whispered. Peter's hands were off his lap and grasping Sylar's before he could really think. They both gazed down at their hands which seemed to have taken on a life of their own. Their fingers twined, Sylar's thumb grazing the back of Peter's hand.

Peter crashed to his feet, dragging his treacherous hands with him. "This is so wrong...we shouldn't be...I..." Sylar stood, watching Peter search for the right words. But there were none. Eventually he lapsed into silence, his fingers trying to grasp something that wasn't there anymore.

And then it was. Peter looked up into Sylar's eyes as his fingers twined around his. "Do you think this is any easier for me?" the older man said, his voice slightly rougher than it once was. "Ever since we...kissed, I can't stop _thinking _about you. And..." He smiled ruefully. "...I don't want to stop." He laughed quietly. "This is the most fun I've had in years."

Peter really tried to be offended by that. He really tried to say something along the lines of "So this is all a game to you?" but he couldn't. That was the partial downside of telepathy. He could read Sylar's mind; he knew it wasn't. He knew what he was saying was the truth. He knew it had taken ages for him to summon up the courage to even call. He knew he'd been devastated to hear the news about Claire's paternity because he knew what it would mean. And he knew he'd felt exactly the same way about the kiss.

The thing was, it had just been a _stupid _bet. Matt and Mohinder had actually _sniggered _as they'd reminded them. And yet...it had ceased being _just a bet_ the moment it happened.

Peter pulled him closer until they were only inches apart. He positioned Sylar's hands on his waist and then held his head in his own hands, looking him straight in the eye. "You," he said, his voice shaking despite his best efforts, "are so very tempting."

Sylar tried to be nonchalant. He shrugged, grinning. "Well, I try."

And then they were kissing and there was nothing but that.

Awhile later Peter whispered, his breath tickling Sylar's ear, "Would you stop being so fucking _gentle_?"

Sylar merely growled deep in the back of his throat and commenced showing him how _not _gentle he could be. Peter certainly wasn't complaining.

***

Claire waited for Peter to return. At first she wasn't worried. It wasn't unusual for him to be out all night. But when he failed to show by noon the next day she began to worry. She paced the living room floor, marking a definite track into the carpet as she waited for his phone call.

It never came.

After a certain amount of time had passed (basically three hours from the moment she realised Peter hadn't returned) she left the house, belatedly remembering the keys and her coat. This delayed her for about half an hour as she searched for the keys, which she found, inexplicably, in the fridge. She finally left.

Mere minutes later Noah Bennet opened the door to his flat to find a distressed Claire on his doorstep. "Oh, Dad! Peter's missing!" She buried her head in his chest and sniffled pitifully.

Noah patted her awkwardly and closed the door. He gently directed her to the sofa and lowered her down, thinking happily, _That's the first time she's called me Dad in years! Thank you, Peter!_

"Shh, Claire, it's okay," he said softly as she continued to sniffle pitifully. "I'm sure he just got caught up in...whatever he's doing."

She glanced up at him and sniffled. "He doesn't love me anymore!" she wailed, wiping her nose with her sleeve. He discreetly offered her a tissue. "He's with another woman!" She buried her face in the tissue and sobbed her heart out.

Noah patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "There, there," he said. "I'm sure he's not with another woman. And _of course _he still loves you."

"Who wouldn't?" a familiar voice said.

Her sobbing decreased in intensity. Slowly she raised her head. "Zach?"

Zach grinned.

***

Peter slowly came out his daze to lift his leg and kick slowly at Sylar, who cracked an eye open and observed him with something bordering on amusement. "What are you doing?"

Peter lowered his leg and buried his head in the pillow. "Trying to kick you," came from the direction of his mouth, slightly muffled.

Sylar smiled. "Why?"

"You're thinking too loudly." He pouted, although the effect was marred due to the fact that his face was still buried in the pillow.

Sylar stretched languidly then propped himself up on his elbow. "And why is that a problem?"

Peter turned his face so that he was looking at him. "What you are thinking, while ingenious, is slightly out of range because, and I cannot stress this enough, I am too _exhausted_." He buried his face back into the pillow and tried to regain his dazed state.

He felt Sylar trail his finger tips down his back and suppressed a shiver. "Peter?"

He tried very hard to ignore him. "Peter..." He felt the whisper near his ear this time.

"_Peter_..."

With a growl he straddled Sylar in seconds. He thrust a finger in Sylar's face and wagged it severely. "You," he said, his voice low and rather dangerous, "are going to pay dearly for this."

Sylar raised one eyebrow, a challenge. "Oh, I highly doubt you'll do anything I haven't thought of first."

After a moment he added, trying to keep the slightly hysteric excitement from his voice, "That's cheating."

Hours, moments, lifetimes later they finally emerged from another happy daze. Peter groaned and pushed him softly. "Don't you _ever _stop thinking?" he asked, prompted by Sylar's enquiring look.

Sylar shook his head happily. "Nope, never."

Peter rolled over and kissed him softly on the shoulder. "Good."

They grinned goofily at each other until Peter sighed, pushing his hair out of his face while he was at it. "What time is it?"

Sylar glanced over at his bedside clock. "One thirty in the afternoon."

Peter blinked stupidly, a small frown creasing his forehead. "What?" He sat up, eyes wide. "Oh god, did I rewind time?" It had been four o'clock in the afternoon when they'd arrived here. What had _happened_?

Sylar gazed up at him, frowning in confusion. "I don't think so..." he said slowly. "Peter, you do realise it's Wednesday, right?"

"Wednesday?" He clutched the pillow to his chest. "Wednesday?" He gazed down at Sylar. "Are you trying to tell me we've been here for _two whole days_?"

Sylar thought for a minute. "Pretty much, yes," he said finally.

"Oh." Peter blinked. "Okay then." He lay back down, cuddling up to Sylar. "That's nice." He sighed happily. And then bashed him with a pillow. "Stop it," he said grumpily. "I am not a machine."

Sylar chuckled evilly.

***

"Zach, what are you doing here?" Claire asked, mid hug. She turned to glare at her father. "Why didn't you tell me he was here?"

Noah sighed. He could never do anything right. "Well, if I'm not mistaken, the last time we spoke you said you would have nothing to do with me."

Ah, yes, she remembered that conversation. She felt vaguely embarrassed. She had the feeling she'd become slightly hysterical. "Well..." She searched for an excuse and came up blank. She then chose to use an old classic. "That's no excuse."

Noah raised an eyebrow. She blushed. Okay, even she knew that was lame. "Sorry."

She turned back to Zach. "So? What _are _you doing here?"

He shrugged. "Nothing much. Just wanted to see a few old friends. I heard about that paternity thing, by the way." He grinned. "Is your life always that dramatic? And why does it always somehow reach the papers?"

Noah grumbled darkly. Angela. He'd get her for that. He didn't know how as yet, but he would. Oh yes, he would.

Claire sighed mournfully. "Yes, but you know I've always just wanted to be--"

Zach stopped her. "Uh-uh, what do I always say?"

Claire glanced down, ashamed. "Embrace your inner freak," she mumbled. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"That's my girl." He ruffled her hair for good measure.

He then proceeded to tell an entranced Claire what had happened to him since she had left Odessa. He'd produced an independent film (and no, it _wasn't _about a high school misfit who befriends a blonde cheerleader with regenerative abilities. It was about his cat, Twinkles) which had interested a Hollywood producer. Now he ran a film advertising agency along with that very same producer. He was quite wealthy, not that he told Claire this last part.

Claire was suitably impressed. She was also slightly ashamed. What had _she _done with her life? And yet this shame had nothing whatsoever to do with Zach, who seemed as interested in her life as she had been in his.

Noah had left the room, to make a few calls to find the whereabouts of one Peter Petrelli. He returned just as Claire was telling Zach the whole story about her real father (a truly fascinating tale; Zach was riveted), bemused. Should he tell Claire what he'd discovered?

After watching her for a moment, he sucked up enough courage to interrupt them. "Well, Claire," he said, making them turn to him. "I can say, with absolute confidence, that Peter is not, nor will he ever be, with another woman."

Claire looked relieved. "Well, that's good." She smiled.

That smile slowly slipped as Noah continued to stand there, now looking visibly uncomfortable. "What?" she said, her tone no longer cheerful.

"Uh, I don't really know how to say this," he said, shuffling his feet. He cleared his throat once, twice.

"Spit it out, Dad," she said, her face clouding over.

Now even the fact that she called him Dad had no effect. _Damn you, Peter_. He cleared his throat again and finally said, "The reason he isn't with another woman is because..." He wiped a sheen of sweat that had formed on his forehead. "...he's with Sylar."

"Oh." Claire shrugged, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. "If that's all..."

"No, uh, Claire," Noah said, wishing he'd never ever mentioned this. "You don't understand. When I said he's with Sylar I meant he's _with _him as in _with _him..." He gulped.

Claire's face was blank. Peter...was with Sylar. This just did not make sense. He did not love Sylar; he loved her. That was right, wasn't it? _Wasn't it? _she asked herself. _Right?_

She fainted. Zach caught her before she hit the ground.

***

Peter sat up, gasping, the sheets tangled around him. Sylar, lying somewhat groggily beside him, rolled over and fell out of bed. He tried to get up, yelling "What? What?" but fell again, some of the sheet tangled around his ankles.

Peter immediately forgot what had woken him, at least for the moment, and gazed over the bed, concern in his brown eyes. "Are you okay?"

Sylar glared up at him. "Do I _look _okay to you?"

"Well..." Peter chose his words carefully. "You don't look terribly comfortable..."

Sylar rolled his eyes and, this time, stood up more carefully. He got back into bed, pulling the sheets off the floor and arranging them around him and Peter. "Now," he said, rather grumpy, as anyone would be. "What woke you?"

Peter frowned, trying to remember. What was it...oh god. He sat up again. "Claire."

Sylar tried very hard not to groan. He partially succeeded. "What about her?" He tried not to sound too sullen. Again he only partially succeeded.

"I've been away for two whole days," Peter said, running his fingers through his hair. Somewhat distracted by the movement, Sylar watched, fascinated. His hand followed Peter's. The latter leaned into his fingers without really noticing. "She's bound to be worried..." He sighed. "Stop it, I have to concentrate..."

Sylar smiled. "Why? Why can't we just stay like this forever?"

"Because..." He blinked, dazed. "What were we talking about?"

"Claire," Sylar murmured in his ear.

Peter smiled dreamily. "Claire who?"

He chuckled. "Exactly."

What felt like a lifetime later Peter realised what Sylar had done and pushed him, frowning. "Why did you do that?"

Sylar murmured sleepily into his pillow, "You're mine now. Stop talking about her."

"But..." Peter's frown deepened. "I should at least tell _her _that. I mean, she doesn't know."

Sylar growled and rolled over so that he could see Peter's face. "Would you stop being so fucking _good _all the time?"

"Well, I will if you stop being so fucking _bad_..." He blinked. "Forget everything I just said."

Sylar nodded firmly, grinning. "Your wish is my command. Now get over here."

Peter titled his head to one side. "No, I don't think I will. In fact," he added, reaching over Sylar to the phone on the bedside table. "I think I'm going to call her right now and tell her." Sylar tried to snatch the phone away from him but was too slow. He dialled.

Obviously, because she was not there, he got the answering machine. Frowning, he hung up. "She wasn't there."

Sylar gave up trying not to look sullen. "Maybe she's out looking for her _precious _Peter."

He frowned. "Now what's the matter with you? I would think you'd _want _me to tell her."

"I do..." Sylar grinned. "Just not now." He pulled him closer. Peter tried to keep his breathing even. "I'm not done with you yet."

About an hour later Peter whispered, "I am, you know."

Sylar murmured sleepily, "What?"

"Yours."

He pulled him closer, breathing in his scent. "Don't you forget it."

Half an hour later Sylar got up to go to the bathroom. Well, that was what he told Peter, anyway. Instead he closed the bedroom door behind him, slid down its length and banged his head softly against it. It was official now. He was well and truly _fucked_. That didn't even really cover it either. He was completely lost and, ironically, it was first time in his _entire _life that he'd ever felt whole. He had fallen and he wasn't sure at all whether he wanted to get up ever again.

Peter lay tangled up in the sheets, a silly smile on his face. Sylar had been right: this was _fun_. He'd have to say it was the most fun he'd ever had. And he wanted it to continue...indefinitely.

The phone rang. Sighing, he picked it up.

"Hello?"

He had to pull it away from his ear as Claire shouted from the other end. He was able to gather, between curses he was surprised she even knew, that she knew about him and Sylar. He decided not to ask how. Nor did he ask where she was. He read between the lines and realised she was at Noah's. Only he would know Sylar's activities – he had enough informants tailing him.

Finally she finished with a sad, little, "Why would you do this to me, Peter? I thought you loved me."

He sighed and banged his head slowly against the pillow. "I did, once," he said softly. "I just...don't anymore. I'm sorry but...I love him now. I don't really know how it started, I don't even know if it's going to last. It's just...I don't think I can give him up. I spent six months trying."

Claire was silent.

"Were you happy, Claire?" he asked, partly to fill the silence and partly because he truly wanted to know.

She sniffled. "They were the happiest six months of my life."

"But..." He searched for the right words only to realise there weren't any. "Weren't you bored?"

She laughed bitterly. "What? Peter, no, I..." She stopped, and he knew she was frowning.

It was his turn to laugh, although not bitterly. "Isn't it ironic that the moment you get a normal life you realise how utterly boring it is?"

"No," she said, and he could hear her confusion. "It's...it's..._stupid_, that's what it is."

He laughed and, after a moment, she did too.

Sylar opened the door. Peter mumbled something into the phone and hung up. Sylar frowned. "Who was that?"

"Claire," Peter said, trying to keep his breathing even and failing miserably. "We're broken up now."

Sylar raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Peter nodded his head once, twice, three times. "Yup." He titled his head to the left, and then to the right, watching Sylar walk towards him. He licked his lips.

"You." He beckoned him with a finger. "Come here." Sylar obeyed, somewhat bemused. What had Claire said to his boy?

Peter pulled him down with him and then rolled over so that he was now straddling him. "You're mine," he whispered in his ear, his possessive tone making Sylar shiver.

He nodded happily. "Whatever you say, Peter."

Peter shivered. "Say it again."

Sylar looked puzzled. "Say what?"

"Say my name again. I love it when you say my name." Peter was starting to lose control. He fucking _loved _the feeling.

Sylar grinned wickedly. "Peter..."

He didn't let him finish.

***

"Oh god, Sylar's back. He's so _hot_, Claire. I have to go now. We're broken up, okay? Bye," Peter mumbled into the phone and then hung up.

Claire continued to hold the phone to her ear, listening to the dial tone. She slowly placed it in its cradle and stared at it.

"Well, I never realised before how truly weird he is." She glanced up at her father and Zach, who were both giving her concerned looks. "We're broken up now." She sighed.

There was a moment of silence.

Zach rubbed his hands together as one does when one has a brilliant upon brilliant plan. "Now that that's all sorted, I am going to pamper you to within an inch of your life." He bounced over and sat down next to her. "So, what do you want to do? I have money, connections, other stuff. You can do pretty much anything, so what will it be?"

Claire laughed. "We could go see a movie," she said hesitantly.

He bounced onto his feet, pulling her along with him. "Great! Which one?"

"Um..." She gazed at him, embarrassed. "Well, I sorta want to go see Transformers 2."

Zach gazed right back, a silly smile on his face. "You have got to be the best damn girl in the whole world." He gave her a twirl. She couldn't stop laughing.

She looked up at him, breathless. He offered her his arm. She accepted it with a goofy grin.

They saw Transformers 2. Well, it would be more accurate to say that they went into the theatre and then immediately became distracted right around the beginning of the movie when Zach leaned over and kissed her. Thus they had to buy two more tickets to the next screening, which they spent much like the first one. Eventually, after buying twelve tickets and numerous buckets of popcorn, they finally saw it.

Afterwards Claire said, "You know, you're probably just my rebound guy."

Zach grinned at her. "Well then I'll be the best damn rebound guy you'll ever have. And maybe I'll make the transition from rebound guy to boyfriend in, let's say, two years," he added in a whisper that made her shiver delightfully.

"Oh, at least," she managed to say before her mouth became occupied with much more important things.

***

Sylar slid off the bed, now a _proper _mound of mushy goo. "Help, I've fallen and I can't get up," he said from his actually quite comfortable position on the floor. "On second thoughts, come down here. It's really quite comfortable."

Peter peered over the edge of the bed. "You got yourself into that position, you can bloody well get yourself out of it. I'm too exhausted..." His eyes widened in shock. "No, no! I've told you this before – I am not a machine!"

After a moment he laughed softly and joined Sylar on the floor. "You think far too much."

Sylar wrapped himself around him. "That's what you love about me, admit it."

"Not the _only _reason," Peter said after a moment. "One of many, I'd say." He was silent and then added, "And no, we're not doing that. I'm too tired." Silence. "Maybe later."

Sylar chuckled sleepily. "Deal."

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**Yes, my mind is a dirty, dirty place, just like Sylar's. **

**Review please. **


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